Winifred’s mother was a Bluebell Queen and her father a Leaf Lord. Her siblings were Forest Folk but Winifred was restless. She wanted to be different and so she took off, seeking adventure. Now her wings felt as if they were about to drop off, like she’d been flying forever.
At last the terrain beneath her feet was changing. Gone the soft tussocks, woodland roots and little streams she knew: gone the bracken and the fresh breath of pine. Beneath her lay a landscape of trimmed hedges and suburban gardens, dogs with well trained noses, cats with fat tummies and noisy children. Winifred had heard of such places in child-stories but seeing is believing. She loved those child-stories. There was always a fairy and children and animals and a happy ever after ending. A curl of fragrant smoke wafted in the air and she just knew this
was the place, so she made a light landing on a leafy stem. She was ready for adventure.
Almost at once, a disturbing sound caught her attention -- a child crying. Winfred looked round the garden and there indeed, kneeling on a manicured lawn was a girl child emitting signs of the utmost distress. Winifred was about to speak when a little boy came running out from the large, white house and approached the girl.
“Hey snot-face! What’re you bawlin’ for this time, eh?"
“Go away!"
“Just like a girl crying 'cos I wouldn’t play stupid dolls house."
The girl controlled herself. “I’ll tell Mum you had your mitts in the pavlova."
“You little fink! You do, and I’ll give you something to bawl for."
“Beast!" The girl recovered her emotional equilibrium rather quickly and stood up and began pounding the boy with both fists clenched. “Brute. I hate you."
“Hate you back." Dickie, that was the boy’s name, pulled his sister Linda’s hair but she stuck her foot out and tripped him. Now she was sitting on him and twisting his ears.
“Mum! She killing me. Linda’s killing me!"
“Whatever it is, it’s buzzing like a bee," said Dickie and he held it up to Linda’s ear.
“I am a FAIRY," yelled Winifred at the top of her voice.
“Take the horrid thing away!" Linda said. “Do you think it’s stingy?"
“Dunno."
“Let’s tear off its wings and put it on the barbeque," said Linda.
“Nice one sis! And then we can feed it to Mitsycat."
Winifred was terrified. She wriggled and squirmed and screeched that she was a fairy. “I’ll give you a wish," she tried. They couldn’t hear her. This never happened in the stories.
Three things now happened very fast. The first was that a voice from the house called, “Twins, your tea is ready."
The second was that Winifred bit the boy’s hand as hard as she could. And the third was that a flight of fairies appeared from out of nowhere and made straight for the hullabaloo.
“Ow! Damned thing stung me," yowled Dickie but he let go his grip enough for Winifred to fly free and then the fairy flight attacked, and both children ran indoors calling for their mother.
Half the forest had turned out to search for her and Winifred recognised her family at the forefront.
They surrounded her and hugged her.
“Oh Winifred," said her mother as she gave her a nice draft of flower nectar and raindrops, “What if we hadn’t got there on time?" She stroked Winifred’s tired little wings. “Promise me never to fly off like that again."
“Promise, Mum."
“Well," said her father, “I hope you’ve learned. Real life isn’t like child stories. It’s a human jungle out there. Still, I’m quite proud of you for being so brave and if you really want to be a Story Fairy, that’s how you earn your wings."